


Seven

by iwantwillgraham



Category: Seven Pounds (2008), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Car Accidents, Death, Feels, Guilt, I am so sorry, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sad, Terminal Illnesses, You're going to cry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwantwillgraham/pseuds/iwantwillgraham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In seven days, God created the world. In seven seconds, a man named John Watson shattered his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a Johnlock/Seven Pounds AU. I am taking a lot of the plot and dialogue from the movie, so I apologize. I just got inspired by the movie and decided Johnlock would be perfect for it. If you haven't seen Seven Pounds, it's still an easy read, I promise. This is also the first fanfiction I'm actually really pumped about writing and the first fanfiction I am actually going to continue and finish.

The doctor paces in his living room, angst written all over his face. He repeats six names repeatedly. Six names. Over and over again, those names as reminders. Each and every time he gets to the last name, it comes out as a choked whisper. “Mary, Mary I'm so sorry,” he breathes.

* * *

 

     John Watson was sitting in the couch, his head in his hands. _I've gotta do this, I have to,_ he thought to himself. He repeated those six names over again to himself. His voice caught on the last one and he picked up the phone. Dialing the numbers, he took a deep breath.  
     “Welcome to Doyle, Inc. My name is Anderson, how may I help you?” a voice perked.  
     “Hello, Anderson. My name is Greg and I ordered a shipment from you guys a while back now,” John explained.  
     “Well, hello, Greg. What seems to be the problem?” Anderson asked.  
     “Well you see, when I received this bulk of meat, it was all rotten. Now, I don't remember ordering some rotten meat, Anderson.”  
     There was a pause. “I am very sorry to hear that, sir. May I have your full name please?” he asked politely and happily. He sounded very sincere.  
     John clenched his jaw for a moment, then unclenched it. “Greg Lestrade,” he stated.  
     There was a robotic, computer-generated voice for a brief moment on the other end. “Wait, Anderson, is there someone else there with you?”  
     Anderson cleared his throat. “No, sir. Just me, here.” John could tell he was getting uncomfortable.  
     “Whoa whoa whoa, wait a second. Anderson...Anderson, are you _blind_?” John asked in disbelief.  
     Anderson, sitting in his chair, could hear the venom in Greg's voice. He braced himself. _Stay positive, stay positive,_ he told himself in his head. “Yes, sir. Is that a problem?”  
     John scoffed. “Is that a _problem_? I've got a _blind_ man trying to help me out with my rotten meat shipment. Why don't I just ship it back to you, and you taste it? You tell me what's wrong with it.”  
     “I-...I don't eat meat, Mr. Lestrade,” Anderson's voice broke.  
     “Whoa. Now I have a blind _vegetarian_ working for a meat company? This is unbelievable. What's it like being, blind, Anderson? Tell me. Please. The world is filled with so much beauty and _you can't see shit_. Is that fair, Anderson? Is it fair? Can you even tell me the color of the ocean? No, you could. But you'll never see it. Have you ever even had sex, Anderson?”  
     There was silence from Anderson's end. His smile had faded. This stranger, Greg, was terrible, but he was probably just having a bad day and he didn't mean any of this. _Yes, that's probably what's wrong_ , Anderson thought.  
     John laughed harshly. “A _virgin, blind, vegetarian_. This is truly spectacular. I can't believe this. You'll probably never know how it feels to be inside a woman anyways, to see her face as she-”  
     “Goodbye, Mr. Lestrade. Thank you for you call. I hope you have a good day,” Anderson said blankly, then there was a staccato _click!_  
     John sat there and stared. He got up and with every bit of force and anger he could muster up, he threw the phone across the room. A loud _THUD!_ was heard as it slammed into the wall and broke into many different pieces. Screaming the six names he knew all too well, he punched the wall closest to him. He strode over to the coffee table and in one large swoop of his arms, swept everything off their and let it sit on the floor. He sat down and covered his mouth with both of his hands, pain visible on his face. He closed his eyes and shook his head, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Deep breaths, deep breaths.  
      He softly repeated the six names again.  
      Laying down on the couch, he repeated the names and cried himself to a depression induced sleep.


End file.
